


Carter, A Malingerer!

by SSDSnape



Series: Bamfylde Saga [4]
Category: To Serve Them All My Days - R. F. Delderfield
Genre: David gets annoyed, David's POV, Gen, Howarth finds it all rather amusing, and Carter storms off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 17:21:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12040617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SSDSnape/pseuds/SSDSnape
Summary: Howarth and I have a debate about our fellow colleague, after the man himself storms out of the room.





	Carter, A Malingerer!

"..Actually." Carter puffed out. "Well, I hope you don't mind my taking on in vane, but I er... I took the liberty of telling them how Lieutenant Powlett-Jones might be quite impressed with the way that they drilled."  
"I'm sure he'd be _thrilled_." Replied Howarth from across the room, hidden behind his newspaper.  
Carter slowly turned his head to look at the man, just as Howarth himself looked out from behind his paper and I looked back down at my own. "The rhyme was unintentional, I assure you." He said, before going back to reading. 

 

Carter pulled out a chair and sat down in front of me.  
"No, actually, I was wondering if you'd be good enough to come over and give 'em a bit of an inspection. It'd buck 'em up no end."  
"No. Thanks." I replied.  
"Oh, dear. I rather gave them the imp--"  
"Well I'm sorry, Carter." I cut right across the man, my voice taking on a hard edge. "That's not my fault."  
"You're not being very co-operative you know. Good god man! Those lads are going to need all the support they get, if they're going out there."  
I'd had enough. I snapped the paper down on my lap and looked up at the man. 

 

"I hope they don't have to go. I think it may all be over, by the time their term comes up. I'm sorry if that disappoints you."  
"There's absolutely no need to adopt that tone with me." Carter replied, looking angry.  
"And if they do have to go, then God help them." I carried on, my voice rising a little more. "They'll be marching out there instep, shoulders back! While everybody else with a bit of sense is... trying to keep his head down and keep his feet dry."  
Carter stood up.  
"Right. Fine, oh jolly good. I'm _sorry_ you feel that way, old man." He said trying to keep his cool, before taking a hold of his cap and stick and doing an abrupt about-turn. 

 

Howarth looked up from his paper to see Carter storm out of the common room. After a moment he turned to face me, as I suddenly got the shakes and begin rooting around in my pocket for my own cigarettes.  
"You know, Powlett-Jones," he said, his cigarette fixed between his lips, "you really mustn't let our tamed jingo interfere with your convalescence. It's really not worth the hassle." He picked up his paper again, as I struck a match. "Hard to resist being drawn of course. Carter of the corpse. I fear the man's a complete... poopstick." 

 

I took a long deep drag of my cigarette.  
"I'd give a good deal to know whether he's really got a gammy knee." I replied angrily.  
Howarth put down his paper and sat up, taking off his glasses as he looked at me.  
"Oh, what a malicious thought. We've always taken it on trust here, you know." He took a deep breath himself and sat back in his armchair once again. "Perhaps it's a blessing in disguise though - genuine or not. I shouldn't care to have him leading me into battle. Would you?"  
"No, by god I wouldn't!" I replied. 

 

"I suppose we couldn't get some chubby cherub to give him the white feather. Do you think that would be amusing?"  
"Oh, no... look I shouldn't have mentioned it at all." I replied, my voice soft and worried. Believing that Howarth would actually do it.  
"Oh, don't say that." Howarth went on. "It's really very good of you to make a contribution to my entertainment. Really." He turned and put his glasses back on. "Carter, a malingerer! That's _delightful_."


End file.
